The Art Of Secrecy
by heartgroves
Summary: "Soulmates never die," Massie. Josh. Olivia. Cam. Claire.
1. Josh

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Not quite the welcome-back I expected, but my first mistake was assuming anything would happen. It's been a year since I've last seen her; she wasn't going to jump in to my arms with excitement. She was going to be cautious and weary of the mysterious dark figure, whose eyes are hidden underneath the brim of a Yankees hat. My response is a mild hand gesture and crooked smile.

It's funny. On the plane back from Hotchkiss, I had a detailed list of explanations for my sudden departure. I envisioned several scenarios, and each ended with Massie and me buried beneath her sheets, exploring each others bodies. Neither included a less-than-friendly greeting as she lounged around by her pool. Although, I had fantasized about a gold bikini, much like the one she wore.

"Mass," I start, but nothing comes out. I can't be expected to say more though, I never was good with words.

"Josh?" she counters, raising one perfectly groomed brow. Something about her condescending tone turns me on. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Come on babe," I begin. Babe. Am I even allowed to call her that anymore, or has someone else claimed that right? It's okay, I don't follow the rules, girlfriend and boyfriend are just labels for a form of servitude. Me and Massie were the only ones to transcend the limitations of high school romances.

"You have some nerve coming here Hotz!" she shrieks. She has such a fiery temper, when I'm not careful the flames of her anger lick my skin. Too many times I've been burned by Block. Too many times have I extinguished the fire, only to leave ashes in her remains. I've broken down parts of Massie no one even knew existed. When we were together, the caution and the guarded appearance fell. It took a year for them to rebuild, evidently.

"Look, I know I should explain why I left, but what's important is that I'm back," God, I sound like a cheesy take on Ryan Gosling in the Notebook. "I came back for you." Not entirely true. I got expelled from Hotchkiss-a second time. Apparently that can happen.

"Josh, do I look like a Barbie doll?"

Not this childish shit. I assumed once she entered the twelfth grade her middle-school antics would disappear, but every now and them some clever remark from the old days would surface. "No Massie, you do not," I give her what she wants, because she is all I want.

"Then why are you trying to play with me? Josh you left for one whole year, show up at my door step without so much as a call, and tell me that you came back for me, that you love me. Josh I'm not an idiot," Her amber eyes are like shooting arrows, their tips pointed at my heart. "You didn't come back for me, only people who love me would do that."

"But, I do Mass. I still do!" Oh no, I'm raising my voice. "Give me a chance to explain."

"Then why did you leave?" She's like a hound dog on a scent: relentless. " Why didn't you return my phone calls, my texts, my e-mails? Why didn't you talk to me for one whole year Josh? I sat here like an idiot for three months convinced that your cell phone was broken. That was the only explanation I could come up with for why you wouldn't talk to me Josh! Then it hit me: He never loved me! You never loved me, Josh."

"Massie this isn't all about you. Did you ever think that for once this goes beyond your stupid megalomania? Massie, I didn't leave because I never loved you. It has nothing to do with you, at all." Big mistake. Massie hates to be reminded that she's not the center of everyone's universe.

"It has everything to do with me Josh. I bet you never considered how your abandonment would make me feel." Her tanned cheeks have taken on a bright red color, reserved only for her violent rampages.

"Whatever Mass. You were so fucking involved in your own world, with your own problems that you couldn't see that something was wrong. Here I am trying to fix things as usual, and you always push me away," I sound like a pansy.

"Maybe I don't want to fix things Josh! Maybe I enjoy not having to worry whether you're sleeping with Olivia Ryan again. Maybe I enjoy having some semblance of freedom. You suffocated me Josh, and then did whatever the hell you wanted," her words are powerful.

"Fuck this Massie, when you're ready to talk to me, you know where to find me," I walk away. Just like I always do. "Massie, don't pretend like you don't love me. You don't just lose feelings for someone like that."

"Josh it's been a year! Not one day, not one week, not even a God damned month. A year Josh, a year." I can hear the gurgle of frustration boil over in the back of her throat. "A lot can change in a year."

I can't help but think how right she is as I climb into my black Jaguar.

Somewhere, nestled deep within the crevices of my heart is Olivia Ryan. Long, flaxen curls that tumble down smooth, pale skin. Large, ocean blue eyes that reveal everything and nothing at all. Legs for miles. Evenly white teeth. A perplexing, quizzical look that enraptures those fortunate enough to amaze her.

The first time I cheated on Massie was with Olivia Ryan.

I lost my virginity to her in the back of this very Jaguar when I was fourteen. Legally, I wasn't permitted to take the car out, but I promised Olivia some excitement. The one week probation from my parents was worth it.

Olivia Ryan.

She is the type of girl who doesn't understand the profound effects her unearthly beauty have on mere mortal men. She is the Venus of this realm.

She was also one of the three people there that night, including myself. She knew exactly what happened. My fate has always rested in her hands, which brings me to wonder why she hasn't betrayed the secret yet. After all, it would be her own form of twisted revenge.

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A/N: One of my older stories, decided to continue it on here please, please, please R&R!

Disclaimer: All of it belongs to Lisi.


	2. Olivia

A/N: This chapter is mostly filler. Just to introduce Olivia and her relationship with Josh. Where should I take this? Please R&R!

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In my dreams he holds me tightly, digging his nails into my porcelain skin. With every breath we take, our lives are given meaning. Every kiss is a struggle to understand the deep complexities of our bodies, which mingle in a beautiful manner. In my dreams we are two lovers fighting against everything to remain in each others arms.

In reality… I'm Olivia Ryan and he's Josh Hotz, the boy who ran away after that night.

I walk by his house every morning because it's familiar to me. Every crack in the sidewalk stirs memories of me and him trekking to his house to lie on his bed, talking for hours endlessly. I was his girl then, aside from his tumultuous relationship with Massie Block. I was his love in those brief hours that always passed by too quickly. As I venture a peek at his bedroom window, I see the light turned on. It's strange, considering he's been gone nearly a year.

The light is off, but a figure moves in the window. On the other side of the street, I'm safe from view, but my curiosity peaks and I venture towards the house on trembling knees. As I walk up the familiar cobblestone pathway, he emerges from his house. He's still wearing that Yankees cap, that beautiful navy blue headwear that has become his calling card in Westchester. In his arms he carries a gym bag and a soccer ball. He's going to the field, possibly with the troops he abandoned a year ago.

Boys are simple, however. They can forgive his ominous disappearance as long as he makes amends with a six pack of beer and crazy hook up stories from Hotchkiss. Girls on the other hand require time and effort, and a careful manner of dealing. But, I'm different from most girls. So, instead of giving him a quizzical look, I sprint up the pathway into his arms, half expecting him to twirl me in the air like a child.

"Josh!" I shriek, because his name tastes like honey on my tongue. "You came back," I whisper, because my prayers have been answered. I stand in Josh Hotz's arms, grinning moronically as he wraps himself around me. The early summer air frames our body, suddenly making the chemistry between us unbearable.

After an eternity we untangle ourselves and examine one another. He looks the same, save a mysterious, worldly glint in his eyes, as though he's seen too much to ever return to the simplicity of a normal teenage existence. His chocolate eyes roam my body, taking in the sight of my perfectly placed curves, slim calves and eager grin. I'm still the same, I think to myself. I'm still me, I want to say, because for a moment I believe he can't recognize me. Then, without speaking he grabs my face in his hands and presses his lips hard against mine, in a hungry way our lips mash, desperate for the taste of one another.

He's mine again.

"Thank God someone's happy to see me," Josh says when we finally satisfy our craving.

I don't know what he means by that, and I don't want to know, because everything is perfect. The image of Massie Block would only conjure up the awkward reminder that Josh is in love with a bitch.

"Olivia, I meant to call or write, or text, but," he can't finish his sentence, I know he's struggling with the remaining words.

"It's okay, as long as you're back," I say gently, taking his large hand in mine. "Have you spoken to anyone yet?"

"I tried to call Cam and Claire, but things didn't go well," he says sadly. I have the urge to kiss away all his pain. Screw Cam and Claire, they were still upset about that night. The night that almost destroyed everything for Josh. It wasn't his fault, but in Cam's eyes the blame would sit on Josh's shoulders. It wasn't his fault Claire couldn't control herself.

"They'll come around, they're not the type to hold grudges."

"I hope not," he mutters. I can tell he's upset, visibly shaken about their unwillingness to conform and accept Josh back into their lives.

I didn't want to soil it though. We were talking, we were reconnecting. The memory of that night was not to be touched, not while he was all mine. Slowly I lead him back towards the door of his house, pushing it open. I lead him up the stairway to his bedroom.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," I whisper seductively, shutting the door on the past. All that I was concerned with was our present.


End file.
